For as long as I can remember my dad was strong and could do anything. I always felt that nothing would ever happen to him, and he would live forever. Now that he was home, it was like he had regressed to a child. This is a perception that children rarely see of their parents.
He needed help with all the basics like changing and eating etc.. I am not so used to seeing him so vulnerable. For safety reasons, my mom bought baby monitors to put in the family room just in case he needed us in the middle of the night.
For the first few weeks we always had to make sure someone was home with him because it was too risky leaving him by himself. However, one day we made an exception. My mom and I had to drop off the car at the mechanic. My brother was at work so he wasn’t available to stay home. We told my dad that we would be back in fifteen minutes since the mechanic was located nearby. My mom specifically told him not to get out of the chair and to wait until we got home.
Fifteen minutes later we were back home. We walked into the house and my dog greeted us with his usual hyper self. I can’t remember who walked into the room first, but I remember seeing my dad on the floor in front of the laundry room. I could feel the anxiety immediately. My mom and I quickly picked him up and off of the floor. My mom scolded my dad. I couldn’t help but wonder if this is how it would be forever. Thankfully that was his last fall. However, he scared himself enough that he would walk around with a helmet wherever he would go. Half the time he would not even buckle it on so I would not even see the point of him wearing it. My mom would tell me that he would use it for confidence so I shouldn’t make fun of him. I figured I wouldn’t say anything because I wasn’t the one going out in public with him.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Rehabilitation
By the time he had arrived at Health South, he had begun to regain movement and feeling in his left leg. With this improvement they were going to work on teaching him to walk again. Even with the new movement in his legs, he was still going to have to rely on a wheel chair for awhile.
Every so often they were going to allow home visits. We had made changes to our house so that he could stay in the basement, which was accessible by our garage, so he would not have to rely on going upstairs. By the end of May and the beginning of June we had finished remodeling our upstairs. My dad wanted to see the finished upstairs but he still could not go up the stairs. My spilt-level home was located on a hill. If a person were to enter the house from the front, there would be two sets of stairs; one going up and one going down. However, if a person were to enter from the backyard, they would upstairs. So to get my dad upstairs, we had to wheel him into our backyard and take him through the back door. To take him through the back door we had to lift him up two steep stairs. We did not have a board sturdy enough to make a ramp. Once he was done looking at our new living room, we took him out the same way we brought him in.
It was the first time in my life where we all had to take care of my dad. When I was little, he would carry me to bed. When we were in the mountains, and I would think we were lost, he would lead the way. I had to do everything to keep myself from crying. This was not my dad and this is not who he wanted to be.
A couple weeks went by and my dad’s walking improved. He moved on from a walker to a cane that he still uses today. Health South was ready to release my dad home. My dad would still have therapy but it would all be done from our house.
I was relieved to have him in the house again. Due to his physical condition he would still not be able to go up and down the stairs for awhile. My dad normally would spend most of his time downstairs watching TV or working in his office anyway. Since we knew this would be where he would be most comfortable, we made a place in the family room for a twin size bed for him. We set a lamp at the top of his bed and hooked it up to a push button hanging on the wall. That way he could turn on and off the light without having to find his way in the dark. Any type of fall could seriously agitate his condition.
Every so often they were going to allow home visits. We had made changes to our house so that he could stay in the basement, which was accessible by our garage, so he would not have to rely on going upstairs. By the end of May and the beginning of June we had finished remodeling our upstairs. My dad wanted to see the finished upstairs but he still could not go up the stairs. My spilt-level home was located on a hill. If a person were to enter the house from the front, there would be two sets of stairs; one going up and one going down. However, if a person were to enter from the backyard, they would upstairs. So to get my dad upstairs, we had to wheel him into our backyard and take him through the back door. To take him through the back door we had to lift him up two steep stairs. We did not have a board sturdy enough to make a ramp. Once he was done looking at our new living room, we took him out the same way we brought him in.
It was the first time in my life where we all had to take care of my dad. When I was little, he would carry me to bed. When we were in the mountains, and I would think we were lost, he would lead the way. I had to do everything to keep myself from crying. This was not my dad and this is not who he wanted to be.
A couple weeks went by and my dad’s walking improved. He moved on from a walker to a cane that he still uses today. Health South was ready to release my dad home. My dad would still have therapy but it would all be done from our house.
I was relieved to have him in the house again. Due to his physical condition he would still not be able to go up and down the stairs for awhile. My dad normally would spend most of his time downstairs watching TV or working in his office anyway. Since we knew this would be where he would be most comfortable, we made a place in the family room for a twin size bed for him. We set a lamp at the top of his bed and hooked it up to a push button hanging on the wall. That way he could turn on and off the light without having to find his way in the dark. Any type of fall could seriously agitate his condition.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Back in Utah
We were looking forward to taking my dad to the University of Utah hospital because we felt that it was a more reputable hospital. However, my dad’s arrival was disappointing. When my dad had arrived to the hospital, they did not even hook him up to medical devices for three hours. My mom was irate. He still needed be monitored because of the blood that was still in his brain. He was still within the period where he could have another stroke. The clot in his brain still needed to be shrunk and the other part of the clot was still in his neck. In addition to that, a pipe had broke in my dad’s room and the room was flooded. The floors were still damp and the room was humid. My mom requested a room change and they denied her request. My mom finally had to go to the administration office before they would take care of my dad, something they forgot about in their job description. It took her threatening to sue to motivate them toward some sort of positive action.
After three days in the hospital he was being released to Health South Rehabilitation center. The convenience of this was that he would be no more than five minutes away. At this hospital he would have speech therapy, physical therapy and occupational theory.
After three days in the hospital he was being released to Health South Rehabilitation center. The convenience of this was that he would be no more than five minutes away. At this hospital he would have speech therapy, physical therapy and occupational theory.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Preparing to Come Home
The next couple of days were tough. My mom and I realized we only packed enough clothes for two days and we were going to be in Denver longer than that. My dad was still on another planet. He told me that when we were to go home that week that he was going to go backpacking in the mountains the next weekend. He would also repeatedly refer to my mom as “chuckles.” She finally told him that if he called her as “chuckles” one more time, that she would smack him. He had never called her that before and now he doesn’t even remember calling her by that name. Then when my uncle arrived he ended up sharing a room with us. It was the first time since I was five that I had to share a queen-sized bed with my mom. Not particularly the most comfortable situation. We felt bad for my uncle, so we didn’t feel comfortable telling him he couldn’t share a room with us.
The C.C.U. was not the most comfortable for visitors. In my dad’s room there were only two stiff chairs. The hospital does not want the C.C.U. unit too overwhelmed by visitors, but they should make it comfortable enough for who need to be there. There were only three of us there. Yet only two could be in the room at a time. They were strict about this. No reasoning made sense to me at this time. We were from out-of-state and one of us sitting in the waiting room by ourselves seemed unfair considering the circumstances. They didn’t care of course.
The bleeding finally stopped in my dad’s brain and we were ready to go home. Our goal was to fly my dad to Salt Lake City to the University of Utah hospital. My dad’s doctor in Colorado said they either needed to arrange for my dad to go to Utah, or they would keep him in rehab for about a month before sending him back. My mom looked at the options and felt staying in Denver would be too expensive. We tried to arrange with a social worker to get a medical transport home. It seemed the social worker did everything but help. My mom took it into her own hands. She called a friend in Salt Lake and we began working with a company to fly home. About after a day we were quoted eight thousand dollars for the flight home. When my mom told me the cost I could feel my stomach sink down to my feet. I couldn’t figure out where in hell we would come up with the money. As convenient as is would have been to have the money available in case of emergency, I knew we didn’t have it. I knew this was going to be overwhelming for my mom. I made sure, if need be, that I had money on my credit card for her to use. We had to come up with half down before they would transport him back to Salt Lake City.
Since the social worker was absolutely no help, my mom had contacted a friend who put us in touch with a company that would transport my dad. I think the hospital wanted to keep my dad in the hospital due to the experimental procedure done on him.
We made the final arrangements for my dad. My mom was going to fly with my dad. I had the option to fly back by myself on a commercial flight or drive back with my uncle. By the fifth day of being with him and hearing his two cents on everything, I opted out for the ten-hour drive home with him. That is saying a lot considering I am afraid to fly and this would be the first time I would fly by myself. Thank god for the forty-minute flight.
The C.C.U. was not the most comfortable for visitors. In my dad’s room there were only two stiff chairs. The hospital does not want the C.C.U. unit too overwhelmed by visitors, but they should make it comfortable enough for who need to be there. There were only three of us there. Yet only two could be in the room at a time. They were strict about this. No reasoning made sense to me at this time. We were from out-of-state and one of us sitting in the waiting room by ourselves seemed unfair considering the circumstances. They didn’t care of course.
The bleeding finally stopped in my dad’s brain and we were ready to go home. Our goal was to fly my dad to Salt Lake City to the University of Utah hospital. My dad’s doctor in Colorado said they either needed to arrange for my dad to go to Utah, or they would keep him in rehab for about a month before sending him back. My mom looked at the options and felt staying in Denver would be too expensive. We tried to arrange with a social worker to get a medical transport home. It seemed the social worker did everything but help. My mom took it into her own hands. She called a friend in Salt Lake and we began working with a company to fly home. About after a day we were quoted eight thousand dollars for the flight home. When my mom told me the cost I could feel my stomach sink down to my feet. I couldn’t figure out where in hell we would come up with the money. As convenient as is would have been to have the money available in case of emergency, I knew we didn’t have it. I knew this was going to be overwhelming for my mom. I made sure, if need be, that I had money on my credit card for her to use. We had to come up with half down before they would transport him back to Salt Lake City.
Since the social worker was absolutely no help, my mom had contacted a friend who put us in touch with a company that would transport my dad. I think the hospital wanted to keep my dad in the hospital due to the experimental procedure done on him.
We made the final arrangements for my dad. My mom was going to fly with my dad. I had the option to fly back by myself on a commercial flight or drive back with my uncle. By the fifth day of being with him and hearing his two cents on everything, I opted out for the ten-hour drive home with him. That is saying a lot considering I am afraid to fly and this would be the first time I would fly by myself. Thank god for the forty-minute flight.
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